


Flowers for Alderaan

by ReyloTrashCompactor (NextToSomething)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Ben Solo is a disaster, Cute Girl Rey, F/M, Florist Ben, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 22:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NextToSomething/pseuds/ReyloTrashCompactor
Summary: Ben Solo is impulsive. He impulsively joined the military and he impulsively opened a flower shop when he was honorably discharged. When a pretty girl named Rey wanders into his shop asking for daisies, that impulsiveness drives him to arrange a second bouquet for her. Every blossom is imbued with a wish, and every wish is to see Rey again.





	Flowers for Alderaan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [addictedtoacertainlifestyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedtoacertainlifestyle/gifts).



> This is my first flower shop!AU, but certainly not my last. Thanks so much to addictedtoacertainlifestyle for requesting something so delightful and fun to write!

“It's such a sad name for a florist,” Leia sighed over the line. Ben Solo pinched his nose and clutched his cellphone so hard that he could hear the plastic cover creak. 

“No, Mother, it's clever.”

Leia snorted. “Is it, though? If _Flowers for Alderaan_ were so clever, wouldn't you think there would be other shops with the name? Like all those hair salons called ‘Curl up and Dye’.”

“Was there something you needed?” Ben asked. “I'm opening soon.”

She sighed, the sound harsh over the tiny speaker. “I just wanted to let you know that your father was back in the city. I would like to have you over for dinner.”

“Gotta go, Mom,” he said instead of answering. “Need to unlock the doors.”

He hung up before she had a chance to respond and laid his phone far away from him, on the other side of the cash register. People weren't exactly breaking down the door to his unassuming flower shop, but Ben liked to open on time regardless. Precise punctuality was a hard habit to break from his stint in the military, and he had exactly forty-five seconds to throw the deadbolt and flip the sign to open. 

He got it done in thirty-three seconds and was able to breathe deep.

By noon, Ben had had three customers, one of which had bought a single carnation. Pink, maternal love. When Ben asked if it was for the guy's mother, all he got was a blank stare. 

He ate his lunch at the counter, holding a decrepit paperback he'd bought at the Goodwill open on the glass. The bell tinkled at the door, and Ben cursed under his breath at forgetting to turn the sign to closed for his lunch hour. 

He cursed again when he looked up from his book. 

The girl was beautiful. Wide mouth and shiny brown hair and eyes that glittered under dark, arching brows. She was dressed simply, in jeans and an odd looking shirt with the shoulders cut out, but Ben was transfixed by her regardless. 

“Um--?”

Ben shook his head, realizing that she had caught him staring. “C-can I help you?” 

The girl glanced at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your lunch.”

Ben threw the sandwich in the trash. Her voice was incredible, deep and affecting in her English accent. 

“I was just finishing up,” he lied. “How can I assist you?” 

“Um--” she said again, glancing nervously around. It was as if she'd never been inside a flower shop before and she couldn't focus her eyes on one type of flower for too long. “Do you have daisies?” 

Ben scowled. _Daisies?_ “Yes. What kind would you like?” 

She blinked. “There's more than one kind?” 

Ben blinked back. “Yes.” 

He was about to start naming the types and colors of daisies he had in stock when she said, “The, uh, white ones.”

“Shasta daisies,” he said, and she nodded, as if the word had been at the tip of her tongue.

“Yes. Shasta daisies.”

 _Boring,_ Ben thought. This girl needed something vibrant, like amaryllis--confident, beautiful--or larkspur--joy and fresh, new love. “Who are they for?” he asked, his voice a little more hard than he meant. To her credit, the girl didn’t flinch. 

“Um, I was going to take them to family services? They helped me--” She cut herself off, as if realizing that this wasn’t something she wanted to tell a complete stranger. She took a deep breath, then started again. “I was in the foster system for most of my life, and it would be a lie to say it wasn’t mostly miserable. But they worked hard to place me with someone who would be the right fit. They found me Maz--my sort-of mom--and Finn, my best friend.” She coughed, stopping before the story could really begin and at the same time, telling him more than he knew he deserved.

“I don’t have much to give them, but I thought daisies might be a nice thing for a kid to see, in case they were scared or angry or tired of being passed around.”

She ended with a shrug, something small and noncommittal, but it still left him breathless.

Ben felt a strange melting sensation inside him, a softening that he didn’t entirely realize. He’d spent a long time recovering from his time overseas, finding comfort in so few things. There was another battered paperback hidden beneath the counter, a reprint of a Victorian book on the language of flowers. He’d found it in a waiting room in the VA hospital he’d spent so many months in, and though his entire regiment would have laughed themselves hoarse over it, he’d found a simple sort of pleasure in memorizing a language that was based entirely on the secrets to be found in bouquets.

He’d laughed for the first time in a year when he’d seen a ‘Get Well’ arrangement in a buddy’s room that meant death, stupidity, and sluttiness. As soon as he’d healed (and scheduled the first of many therapy sessions) Ben had used a large portion of his trust fund to open this shop.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “About wanting to be surrounded by things that make you feel safe.”

There was a long beat of silence, then the girl blushed, staining the skin between her freckles a sweet lisianthus pink. Ben Solo was lost completely.

“They’re perfect,” he said, rushing to pull one long stemmed daisy from the case behind him. He presented it to her like a blacksmith might present a knight his sword, but he was too fixated on her wide eyes to feel foolish. “They mean happiness, innocence. They’re the perfect flower for children.”

She took it, bringing the bloom to her nose. Daisies weren’t exceptionally fragrant, but nearly every flower had some soft note of sweetness tucked close to their hearts.

“It’s beautiful. I--I know it’s just a daisy, but they’ve always been my favorite.”

Ben nodded solemnly. “How many?” he asked. “I can arrange them for you right now, if you have a couple of minutes.”

“I do,” she said.

“Great.” He turned back to the case then paused with a handful of daisies before turning back. “Can I arrange one for you as well?”

“I’m sorry?” she asked, that blush that had been fading blooming fresh. 

“A, um, bouquet. You’re dropping this one off, but…” Ben swallowed. “Everyone should have fresh flowers in their home.”

She didn’t answer, but there was a flicker in her greenbrown eyes. As if trying to suss out where she remembered him from. Ben knew he’d never met her; he’d remember a girl with speckled flowers in her cheeks with eyes like the sprouted earth they’d grown from.

“On the house, of course,” he added. “I just want to make you something pretty.”

She nodded, a small twitch of a smile threatening at the corners of her lips. Ben knew then that he’d not be happy until he’d made this girl smile in earnest.

“What’s your name?” he asked. “It’s not Daisy, is it?” He waved the cluster of flowers.

Her smile grew. “No, it’s Rey.”

“That’s beautiful,” he said, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s not. But you’re nice to say so, anyway.”

Ben cut and arranged the daisies in a much nicer vase than he usually used for basic arrangements, adding budding laurels to frame them. Rey nodded in approval of the bouquet. She’d never said how many she wanted, so he’d given her an explosive dome of nearly three dozen.

Then he set about making one for her. He picked the prettiest vase he had to offer: faceted glass in shades of lilac and rose. Large and ornate while still managing to remain delicate. He seemed to know what he wanted to choose for her without much thought. Lisianthus, of course, so she might come back, so that this meeting would be the start to something lasting. It was a charming flower as well, and goodness knew that Ben needed all the charm he could get. Fragile peonies just beginning to unfurl, because he was a stranger already half in love with her and he hoped she felt the same. They blushed shyly, just like her, but meant strength and success as well. Rosemary, for remembrance, so she’d not forget the awkward dude who’d begged to give her flowers. He added a few zinnias for good measure on that front. Astilbe so she couldn’t miss that he’d be waiting here for her, and ranunculus, just in case she’d somehow missed how smitten he was, and a few speckled orchids, just for luck.

He finished this beautiful disaster of an arrangement with yellow roses. They contrasted nicely with the soft pinks and off-whites, and told her that, even if she didn’t want the romance he promised in these flowers, he hoped to be a loyal friend regardless.

If she didn’t run screaming from his shop and never come back.

He set the vase down in front of her, watching intently as her eyes darted and paused on each blossom. Her lips parted, then stretched into a smile that took up almost half her face. It was more charming than any flower he could have asked for, and though it felt as unfamiliar as flying, he smiled back.

“That’s the wildest, most beautiful bunch of flowers I have ever seen.”

He couldn’t tell her that it was _her_ bouquet, that each flower he’d picked had a hope and a wish tied to it. But if she just thought they were pretty, that was more than enough for him.

“I’m glad you like them.”

They smiled at each other for a moment longer before Rey jumped as if stung by a bee. She took out her phone, then groaned. “I’m sorry--?”

“Ben!” he said, feeling completely foolish for not saying so sooner--or wearing a damn nametag. “My name is Ben.”

“Ben.” She smiled again, and just at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry, but I have to get going. I wanted to make it there before the kids woke up from their naps.”

He nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you--”

“No, it’s fine! It’s fine. I don’t mind at all.” Her eyes fell to the flowers and her smile faltered. “I have no idea how I’m going to carry these. They’re huge! What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” he said, though his hobby hadn’t paid him this much in a very long time. “They’re a gift. To the kids and--and to you.”

There was something like longing on her face, but before Ben could be sure, it was gone.

“Will you come with me? It’s just down the road. I can carry the daisies if you could get the--everything else.” Then she blinked, shaking her head. “Oh, wait, duh. You’re like the only one here, right? Of course you can’t--”

“I’d be happy to,” he said, already out from behind the counter. She was tall but slender next to him, a sturdy lily stem next to his overgrown hydrangea bush. “I’m the boss, so I say when we close. I’d be happy to help you.”

She smiled again, and Ben could tell already he’d have to put in weekly orders to keep her in daisies and roses and whatever else she might want. “Great. I appreciate it.”

Ben picked up both vases, then nodded to the door. “My key is on my hip. All you need to do is flip the sign and lock the door behind us.”

She unclipped the keychain, and Ben tried to ignore how even that impersonal touch through layers of clothes sent a thrill through him. She opened the door, turned the sign to closed, then fumbled with the lock.

“Sorry,” he said. “You have to sort of pull the door forward--”

It took her a couple of tries, but eventually the deadbolt clunked into place. “I’ll get it next time,” she said, and Ben hugged the cool glass vases to him. _Next time?_

“We can drop off the daisies,” Rey said, “then my apartment is just another three blocks from that. If you don’t mind stairs?”

The arrangement he’d made was big, but it definitely wasn’t something that she couldn’t carry on her own for three blocks. He wasn’t about to point that out.

“I don’t mind stairs,” he said, sounding as breathless as if he’d run twenty flights of them. 

“Good,” she said, leading the way. She looked over her shoulder, that garden blush tinting her face again. “There’s a window in my bedroom that those would look perfect in.”

“O-Okay.”

She stopped, looking up into his face, not seeming to care that she was pretty in pink. “I like the name of your shop, by the way. I think it’s really clever.”

If he wouldn’t have dumped a liter of water on her, he would have bent to kiss her right then. Maybe he’d take her to dinner with his parents. He could use someone like her on his side.

 


End file.
